


An Apple in the Tree

by Oopsynini



Series: Apple Slices [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Angel Blood, Aziraphale deserves all the praise, Aziraphale's Made Up Words, Aziraphale's having a baby!, Breastfeeding, Crowley and Aziraphale's adorable baby, Crowley's adorable nicknames, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Labor Praise, Loving Marriage, M/M, Midwife Crowley, Mpreg, One Shot, Pregnant Aziraphale (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, Supportive Crowley (Good Omens), Unplanned Birth, Unplanned Pregnancy, Water birth, contractions, discriptive birth, home birth, labor pains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24177130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oopsynini/pseuds/Oopsynini
Summary: "Oh, thank God." Struggling into a more upright position, Aziraphale reached for Crowley, desperate for some form of contact. As always, his demon read him just right, and warm hands cupped his cheeks, soothing along the flushed skin there. His gentle touch was enough to tear a broken sob broke past Aziraphale's parted lips. With a muffled burst of displaced air, large black wings enfolded his smaller frame, wrapping him in their comforting warmth, the brush of feathers soothing his frantic mind. Crowley was murmuring words of comfort and apologetic regret, his arms encircling the angel's frame. Aziraphale took the support for what it was, sagging into the comforting structure of his husband."Oh, sweetheart, is it that time finally?" Crowley asked, reaching out to support Aziraphale's very pregnant belly. They both feel the next shuddering contraction when it rolls over the swell of Aziraphale's belly. Aziraphale clutched tight to Crowley's skinny shoulders, riding it out with a miserable moan and gritted white teeth."Yes, it would seem so, darling."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Apple Slices [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744975
Comments: 58
Kudos: 280
Collections: Tip Top Stories





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has been updated as of 6/16/20 with 800 additional words and much-needed corrections.

  


Aziraphale whined into the silken pillows beneath him, rocking on hand and knee as pain coalesced into the center of his corporeal form. He was flustered and in pain and maybe even a little bit angry at the moment. All of which was mostly due to the distinct absence of a particular demon. A burnt-garlic-brat of a demon who was not answering the phone and had not been for far too many hours. Gripping the bed sheets tight in one clenched fist, the muscles of his back strained as more pain rolled down the swell of his belly.

On his hands and knees, as he was, the swollen mass of it was only relatively more comfortable than if he had been laying on his back, which was to say that it was entirely uncomfortable and damned near unbearable. In his right hand, he clutched the hard plastic of his cellphone, pressing it to his ear as it redialed the demon's number, waiting for words on the other side of the line.

If he was transferred to voicemail again-

The sound of the phone connecting had Aziraphale moaning in relief. "Anthony?! Where are you?" He questioned, trying to sound relatively reasonable and calm, even as his voice rose to levels he normally would consider rather improper. Though, given the situation, he would say the volume was well deserved.

"Shhhh, Angel. I'm here." Crowley's voice crackled through the speaker of Aziraphale's phone, while at the same time echoing loudly into the space of their shared room. The familiar scent of sulfur and burnt things announcing his abrupt apparition.

Stepping into the bedroom, Crowley felt his heart beating out a panicked rhythm when he caught sight of his angel kneeling on the bed, in obvious distress. This was not the way he'd left the angel earlier today. Aziraphale's usually neat clothing was wrinkled and in disarray. His trousers stained between his legs, dampened by fluids that he had been too distracted to miracle away. He was something of a mess. Crowley's hands shook with worry as he rushed to Aziraphale's side. Glistening blue eyes met his own hellish gaze, and the angel's relief was palpable in the air when the caught sight of Crowley's lanky form.

"Oh, thank God." Struggling into a more upright position on his knees, Aziraphale reached for Crowley as he climbed the mattress, desperate for some form of contact. As always, his demon read him just right, and warm hands cupped his cheeks, soothing along the flushed skin there. His gentle touch was enough to tear a broken sob broke past Aziraphale's parted lips. With a muffled burst of displaced air, large black wings enfolded his smaller frame, wrapping him in their comforting warmth, the brush of feathers soothing his frantic mind. Crowley was murmuring words of comfort and apologetic regret, his arms encircling the angel's frame. Aziraphale took the support for what it was, sagging into the comforting structure of his husband.

"Oh, sweetheart, is it that time finally?" Crowley questioned, the look on his face filled with uncertainty and concern. 

There was no staying angry at that face. Aziraphale's hurt and disappointment at being left alone blubbered away just like that, "All indicator's point to yes, but it is alright Crowley dearest. It's only just started to get worse." Aziraphale hurried to soothe the distraught demon, pressing in close. The space between them was hampered by the swell of his belly, but his serpent was familiar with the swollen lines of it and how to get around them, bowing his lanky frame in ways that no human could, arching along the heavy ache of his midsection. It eased some of the pain, that gentle hold.

They both feel the next shuddering contraction when it rolls over the swell of Aziraphale's belly. Aziraphale clutched tight to Crowley's skinny shoulders, riding it out with a miserable moan and gritted white teeth.

Crowley bears through the painfully clutching hands without complaint pressing a kiss to his angel's flushed cheek. His heart is heavy with guilt, a feeling he is somewhat unfamiliar with. Hours had passed since he had taken a trip down below to the old familiar abyss. When he left earlier that day, his angel had been well and whole, though very much pregnant, which wasn't exactly abnormal. Aziraphale had been carrying their child for centuries now. Long enough that both of them had become accustomed to its presence. The baby had been around for so long that it was all a bit of an unexpected surprise to have the big 'to do' finally happen. He hadn't known what to suspect when he'd come back to the surface with a phone pinging with missed calls and voicemails. Surprise!

"This was not the surprise I was expecting today." Aziraphale gritted out in a breathless whine, echoing Crowley's inner thoughts. The demon chuckled at the coincidence, his eyes unreadable behind the black lenses of his sunglasses.

"Breath in for me, love." He encouraged, humming when his angel complied with a miserable nod of his head. He moved to draw hell hot fingers down the small of Aziraphale's back, pulling at the layers of his clothing and slipping under the fabric of his shirt. A moan of relief eased past the straining man's lips when he worked his hands into tense muscles that were clenched tight and uncomfortable.

"Crowley…this is entirely too soon." Aziraphale protested, his cheek turned against the swell of the demon's neck, damp tears falling across hot skin. Crowley could feel the blond's body shaking with pent up emotions and fear, and he winced, wishing he'd been able to come sooner. Easing back slightly, he opened his wings enough to let the light shine down on Aziraphale's face. With tender movements, he pressed kisses along the swell of his angel's round cheeks, chasing the tracks of tears until they faded under his touch. He grinned when the other man turned into his ministrations, relaxing under the attention, with hooded blue eyes and a wuffling breath.

"Hnnn…" Aziraphale mumbled wordlessly.

"Oh, come now, you've got this, little one. Too soon?" He snorted, lip lifting in mock contempt, even though the feeling was mutual, there was no way he'd sow seeds of doubt in Aziraphale's head. "You've been preparing for this for over 800 years." Thinking it best to distract the poor fellow, Crowley withdrew his wings and set to undoing the buttons of Aziraphale's modified vest. He eased it off his husband's shoulders with care for the fabric. His angel did so hate when his clothes were ruined. He thought about removing them by miracle alone but considered that might be too startling a change for his delicate angel's sensibilities.

"Yes, well, I avoided thinking about this bit. It did feel rather unending until now." Aziraphale admitted, his hands shifting on Crowley's shoulders to give him room to work. He scowled up at Crowley from under pale lashes, only looking away as Crowley's hands ceased parting his button-down shirt to run along his bare skin. Black-tipped nails pressed to the top of Aziraphale's belly. He could feel their child kick within him and smiled down at the unanticipated little gem hidden deep within the swell of his body.

Crowley's chest swelled with pride at that look on his angel's face, his mouth splitting into a sharp-toothed smile. No matter his fears, Aziraphale was going to make a wonderful father. He'd been carrying their child for so long. It was well past time for them to meet the tiny creation. "God is probably laughing right now. Do you imagine this is one of Her plans?" Crowley questioned, his hands seeking the button of Aziraphale's trousers where they sat low on his hips.

Aziraphale snorted then sniffled hurriedly as his nose leaked, taking Crowley's words for the distraction they were. "I'm blaming this on the Mongols, personally. Why did Genghis have to invade China?" 

Crowley waggled his eyebrows at the reminder of the night that had created their little hellspawn. It'd been an exciting day, filled with drama that coalesced in a lovely evening spent in his fire-heated tent (a Yurt if he remembered the phrasing correctly). Their two bodies tangled amongst heavy furs as a winter storm battered against the felted fabric of the shelter.

"Ah, yes, well, in that case, that would have been my idea. Do forgive me? In hindsight, it was rather dramatic." It had seemed to be a convenient excuse to liven up what had been a rather dull century, and Genghis had been oh so impressionable. It wasn't his fault the whole thing snowballed out of proportion. Aziraphale laughed a helpless puff of air at him, the sound turning pained and panicked as another contraction rocked his short frame.

"Oh, look at you, love, doing so good." Crowley crooned, his hair glinting bright red as he tucked his wings back from their mantled position to ease Aziraphale down onto the comfort of the bed. The angel followed his manipulations, settling onto his back with muttered blessings under his breath. They burned Crowley's ears to hear, but he was used to his angel's ways at this point.

Ignoring the desperate mutterings of his mate Crowley set to slipping off his damp trousers. "Unfortunately, these are going to stain," He admitted with a grimace, miracling the offending material away to be taken care of another day. 

Aziraphale settled back into the swell of pillows, using his hands and feet to make himself comfortable as he shifted his aching hips. He'd mourn the loss of those trousers later. For now, he just prayed to find some way to ease the cresting ache of the contractions.

"Oh, I don't like this at all. I have never lacked so much control of my body. Human females, do this all the time?" He questioned incredulously. He rubbed a hand over his face, pushing pale strands of damp hair off of his sweaty forehead. Opening his eyes, he considered the naked swell of his body, feeling rather betrayed by its current state of being. "I am not at all pleased! I am an Angel dammit, there should be an easier way," He declared, looking up to meet Crowley's concerned, slightly guilty face.

Despite his best efforts to offer a pillar of calm, his demon looked like he'd swallowed a lemon and was attempting to get it down his throat. "Oh, darling. Don't look at me like that, all will be well. You might have put this bun in the oven, but I imagine I can get it out rather promptly." Aziraphale reassured his mate, reaching out to cup the scruff roughened edge of his chin to reassure the man. Crowley's eyes were unreadable beneath his glasses, but he had known the demon long enough to discern what the wrinkles between his eyebrows and a pinched jawline meant. Crowley was nervous and worried and, yes, possibly a little guilty due to his part in their current predicament.

Crowley sighed and turned his head, pressing a kiss to the center of Aziraphale's palm. He wouldn't admit aloud how much the angel's words comforted him. "Are you sure you can't do this in your ethereal form, darling?" He questioned instead, thinking of how much more power his lover held in that form. Aziraphale's true form was an indescribable thing of beauty and horror, all eyes and feathers, with a straining light that could blind even the most daring of snake demons. Crowley hadn't been able to see for a week the last time he'd taken a peek at it.

"Poff! Not likely, I do not think I have been able to transform in years. I have tried dearest., it just never seems to work, I suppose." Aziraphale admitted, a blush staining high on his cheeks as he confessed that little tidbit.

"You never told me that." Crowley sat up, head tilting in confusion. Now that he thought about it, it had been a long time since Crowley had seen the blond in anything but his corporeal form, "Years?!" Huh, time flies when one is expecting.

"Well. It was hardly worth mentioning. I've grown rather fond of this form." Aziraphale tutted, reaching for Crowley's hand so he could clutch it tight. "God knows, this is quite the accident we have on our hands. Would this baby of ours be considered a bastard?"

"Hey now, don't use foul language beastie, Jesus was a bastard! Nothin' wrong with him." Crowley straightened his back, scoffing in mock offense at the very idea. Shifting on the bed, he twisted into a more comfortable position. All things said, they had awhile to wait until go-time.

"That is heresy, Crowley," Aziraphale laughed, not in the least bit offended, and Crowley wondered what She would say to see one of her's so thoroughly corrupted. It made him warm and fuzzy inside, like a good yeasty mold. "Jesus was in-ineffable!" Aziraphale's words turned strained and broke into a soft keening wail as a contraction built, the muscles of his neck stretching while his head kicked back against the pillow.

Crowley hissed in sympathy, rubbing a palm over the rolling muscles of Azira's belly, "Well. Who's to say ours isn't ineffable as well? 'Sides, last I checked, there's a ring on your finger." Bringing Aziraphale's clenched fist up to his mouth Crowley smacked his lips on said ring, the sapphire clicking on his teeth. He hated this. His corporeal form would have been much better suited for childbirth, it was basically nothing but hips. Though plump, Aziraphale was a tiny thing under all the baby weight. 

With great care, he sent out tendrils of power into Aziraphale's body, urging his power to do _something_. He did so hate to see his Angel in pain. But demons were not meant to heal, and all it did was just fizzle against pale skin and fade. He supposed that meant he was left with nothing but empty platitudes, distracting conversations, and comforting touches.

He had done this before, when the time had called for it, but never for his angel, and most definitely not in the last three centuries. Modern medicine had come a long way since that time. Midwifery had been nothing more than push and hope everyone turned out alright back in the seventeenth century, and much less than that the centuries before that. It was best not to remind himself of the fourteenth century and all the mess that had been.

Oh, how he loathed the fourteenth century!

Though, if he thought on it, he would be remiss to not admitted that his combined experience might benefit them now, considering their current predicament. They had no one to rely on but each other. Modern medicine wouldn't help in their case. Even so, for safety's sake, he had done his best to prepare for this moment. Reading and studying up on all the latest trends, he was a veritable cornucopia of knowledge when it came to labor and childcare. Now, all there was left was to put it into practice and hope for the best.

His husband came through that round panting, "Oh my…they do get worse as they go, don't they?" He questioned.

Crowley winced, nodding his head in agreement, "I'm going to get some water for you, Angel. Need anything else?" He questioned, sitting up to take off his sunglasses so he could look better into pain-filled periwinkle eyes.

"Water would be nice, dear, maybe a robe? It's rather blustery in here." He requested, voice a dry croak. 

"Of course," Standing up, Crowley shook a delicate blue robe into existence, the light floral fabric soft to the touch. "Alright then, up with you, my plump little tart. It'll probably help this move along to walk around a bit." He urged, reaching out to ease the other man into an upright position. Aziraphale beamed up at him for a moment, flustered pride lighting his eyes at the term of endearment. Crowley beamed back because his Angel was indeed his favorite of tarts and deserved every word of praise he could offer. He moved willingly enough, gripping Crowley's hand for comfort as he eased up onto his feet. Crowley braced him as he swayed where he stood, the quivering limbs reminding Crowley that he'd been struggling through these contractions for hours before this. "That's a good dear. Let's stretch out those legs." Crowley stepped in close, running long fingers down his shoulders before helping to ease him into the light fabric robe, one arm at a time.

This close, his pale skin shone a lovely shade of cream. The swell of his belly standing out from the folds of the robe, overwhelming Aziraphale's naturally short frame. There weren't the typical signs of a bearing human female on his body. The stretch of his skin had been a gradual experience as the baby gestated over the years, rather than months. Leaving his skin unmarred by stretch-marks. 

His hips had widened just a smidge to make up for the extra weight, which meant he could move around more comfortably than the average human, though his tendency to waddle had grown over the last twenty-five years or so. Crowley found it adorable. Pregnancy suited Aziraphale well. He glowed with it. A literal glow, not a metaphorical one, his white aura gleaming healthy and bright even now, when it was dimmed with pain. Crowley took comfort in that. If things took a turn for the worse, he would know just by examining that bright aura.

Leaving Aziraphale to his own devices, which seemed to involve fussing with the bedspreads and shoving the decorative pillows around with a higher degree of aggression than he normally would, he headed towards the kitchen, shaking his head at the other man's antics. He left the door open behind him and sauntered down the small hallway into the kitchen. 

It was a delicate blend of both their styles, cozy and warm, with small, sleek, modern edges poking through. This was Aziraphale's domain, as could be seen from the limitless teacups and endless selection of snacks that lined the countertop. The fridge was top of the line. Crowley had only barely urged Aziraphale to upgrade from the freezer box. It'd been worth it. Their champagne was well chilled now. He opened a cabinet and fetched a glass, tinking a couple of ice cubes into it the good old human way. Aziraphale flat out refused to have miracled sustenance. In his words, they lacked 'soul and heart.' Crowley took him at his word. He'd know, considering his experience in that area. He wasn't partial to eating or drinking anything other than a fine alcoholic beverage, so he couldn't give an opinion either way.

Crowley caught the sound of a rapid inhale of breath from the bedroom, followed by the muffled sound of Aziraphale gritting his way through another contraction. They were getting closer together, significantly so. Aziraphale must be further along than he thought. Crowley's shriveled up heart fluttered with anticipation and absolute terror.

"Breath, Angel!" He reminded, shouting above the whoosh of the freezer door, so the other man could hear him.

"Ahhhh-crumpets!" Aziraphale's voice responded from the other room, and Crowley took that for an affirmative. Words were difficult to form without air, after all. He turned on the tap and spilled some water into the cup, splashing his front with it in his rush. Rolling his eyes, he chose to ignore his now damp torso and instead rushed back down the hall, long legs carrying him across the tile floor.

His angel clung to the bedpost, body doubled over in pain and held up only by the strength of his arms. Tsking under his breath Crowley moved in close. Looping his arms around the angel's hunched form and murmuring soft words of comfort as he eased one hand around Azira's chest and the other to cup under his belly, taking up some of the weight of it. The glass in his hand came perilously close to tipping over, but he managed to keep it upright.

"Come now, Angel, don't hurt yourself," Crowley murmured against his ear, using his strength to straighten Aziraphale out of his stooped hunch. "Sssstreeetch. That's a good man."

Aziraphale transferred his grip from the bedpost to Crowley's arms, trusting the other man to hold him up even as he let out a sound of protest. God, it hurt, it hurt quite terribly, really, and this was only the tip of what he would be going through in the next bit. Letting his head sag backward, he felt it hit the notch of Crowley's shoulder and left it to rest there. Dragging in a slow, deep breath, he had to admit this was by far a more comfortable position. Crowley was such a blessing. His malodorous demon was hissing heaps of praises, rocking them in place. His forked tongued tickled the side of Aziraphale's neck, and the angel eagerly followed the distraction as the pain ebbed, turning to press a tender kiss to Crowley's lips. God, he was wondrous, so kind and supportive, also rather strong despite his slight build. The edge of a cup appeared in his vision, and Aziraphale eagerly partook from it as Crowley tipped it to his lips, his throat soothed by the chilled liquid.

"Oh, my slitherhearted fellow, you are quite kind," Aziraphale whispered, sucking the last of the water off of his lips. He closed his eyes and just went with whatever Crowley wanted as he swayed to some unknown beat. The slow rocking helped, as did that grip under his straining belly, taking some of the load off and easing the ache in his lower back as they did a gentle circle around the room.

"Kind is such an ugly word." Crowley protested, the compliment no doubt stinging his demon sensibilities. After a time, they were dancing, bodies swaying rhythmically. Crowley's front pressed to his back, a supportive strength that he craved with the eagerness he usually only reserved for cake. Crowley's voice hummed a deep rumbled against his spine, singing one of those songs he oh so loved, for which Aziraphale frequently had no taste for. It sounded rather lovely though, hummed as it was in his dulcet tones.

"Mmm…yes, but the fact that- owwww!" They both stopped what they were doing to ease Aziraphale past this next round. He squeezed his eyes closed, face scrunching through the pain, his knees threatening to give as the desire to push grew, starting in his lower back and working up into his hips. He fought off the urge, knowing at least that much, and came out the other end of it, breathing in jagged gasps.

After catching his breath, he picked up where he left off. "The fact that it bothers you - and I know it - means it's not kind at all…in fact, you could say it's rather mean, actually." Aziraphale panted triumphantly, a sweet, sneaky little smile lighting up his face past the pain, and Crowley paused in his movements, considering the angel's words.

"That makes a certain sense," He admitted slowly, "You are quite cunning, my little sycophant. I think I'll keep you." Crowley purred, squeezing Aziraphale in a gentle hug.

"Quite right, you'll have to. You've ruined me for anyone else. Truly." The angel jibbed back, pressing himself backward into Crowley's hold in an effortless display of affection. Crowley nuzzled his curls, breathing in the familiar scent of Aziraphale. Everything about him was beautiful and delicate, from his blond curls to the twist of his toes in the carpet. Crowley could just linger in the angel's presence for hours, but he'd have to wait. Extraordinary, life-altering things were coming to fruition. Best keep focused. 

"Come now, let's get you in bed. I want to see between those legs, you little heathen." Aziraphale snorted at the phrasing, but Crowley ignored him instead bending over, and with nary a fuss, sweeping the angel into his arms. He paused for a moment, seeming to consider something, "Unless you'd prefer the bath? You never did decide birthing locations when we discussed this before." The angel had, in fact, been very zealous in his distaste on the subject. Operating under the hope that nothing about his pregnancy was normal, so why would his birth? Crowley wasn't an arse enough to bring that up now, but he did appreciate Aziraphale's blush as he seemingly remembering his previous stance on the matter. 

Ducking his head, Aziraphale tucked himself under Crowley's chin and considering his options.

"A bath sounds lovely, though only if it's not too much of an inconvenience."

Crowley snorted. "Sweetheart, you have been inconvenienced for centuries by our dear hellspawn. I think it's the least I can do to miracle you up a nice warm bath." He shook his head at the ever polite ways of his husband, turning to the door that leads to the en-suite bathroom and opening it with a thought. A burst of steam warmed air greeted them, bringing with it the scent of rose oil and lavender. Both were soothing, calming scents that he knew Aziraphale would appreciate. The bath itself was full to the brim with suds and warm water. His plants hung in swathes from the roof, sitting here and there on pedestals and shelves. Their abundant vines going so far as to obscure the large bay window that looked out over the city. It was currently fogged over with steam but allowed in a drowsy, comforting sort of sunlight.

"Oh, darling, isn't that lovely." Aziraphale's approval made him feel warm inside, if a little nauseous. Though hellfire damn him, he couldn't figure out why. Pride was one of his, after all. He settled knobby hips on the edge of the bathtub, the other man balanced on his lap. Aziraphale's arms wrapped around his shoulders, and he sighed into the silky flesh, pressing his lips to the light silk of Aziraphale's robe. They lingered there for a moment, content to take strength from each other. Aziraphale trembled and shook against him like an overbaked souffle, and he only released his husband when those soft tremors had calmed.

"That's a good lad. In we go." He encouraged, murmuring his approval as Aziraphale reached out to grip the edges of the tub and lower himself down. The silk of his robe pooled in the bath, darkening as it took on water. A contraction hit at that particular moment, making Crowley almost slipped in his hurried attempt to support the other man. Aziraphale moaned, his legs widening in the water, displacing the suds. This time he didn't seem able to resist the urge to push, his moan turning into a grunt of effort as he bore down, arms straining where they locked on the rim of the tub. The muscles of his shoulders bunching as he balanced above the water. Crowley caught sight of blood between the swirling suds, the bright gold iridescence of it tinting the water.

"Oh- so sorry, I did not intend to push through that one," Aziraphale admitted breathlessly, starring down at the swirls of his own blood with no small amount of consternation. He could count the number of times he'd managed to bleed in this corporeal form on one hand. It never got any better, and the sight made him a bit queasy every time. Relaxing his arms, he plopped into the water the rest of the way, sending it spilling over the sides and onto Crowley's dark black jeans. The water felt heavenly against his aching muscles, even more so against the pained, straining core of him. He moaned, this time in relief, as he settled down into its warm embrace.

"Don't apologize. This all is by instinct, love. Do what you need." Crowley ran a hand through pale white locks, ignoring the water spewing out the tub in favor of examining Aziraphale with keen yellow eyes. It was safe to say that the angel was getting close to full labor, if not already entering into the final phase. Assuming, of course, that angel labor and human labor operated under the same universal principles. Considering this was the first angel/demon birth either of them had ever heard of, there wasn't exactly a plethora of information on hand. "Want me in there with you?"

Aziraphale looked up at that, a blush staining his cheeks. "Are you sure? It's not exactly…clean." Crowley rolled his eyes, the marigold hue of them shining thanks to the light coming into the window. Unhindered by Aziraphale's concerns, he moved to strip off his clothing with roll-joint movements. Any other day and Aziraphale would have watched him disrobe with enraptured fascination. He didn't have the energy for that at the moment though.

"I'm positive. Demons have paid good money to bathe in angel blood before, darling. If you want me, you got me." Trousers followed after, and since he wasn't wearing any briefs in the first place, that was that. "Scootch over you-" With some careful maneuvering, he managed to ease Aziraphale forward enough to slip in behind him. Legs splayed to either side, he wrapped an arm around the other man and dragged him back to settle in between his widespread hips. Snake bones made it easy to contort around Aziraphale's rounded curves. "There, comfy?"

Aziraphale leaned back into the warm embrace of his husband, sighing with relief at how right it felt to have him there. "Yes, very much so." He massaged a palm over the swell of his belly, shifting to splay his legs wide in a rather lewd way. It made the pressure inside him ease, and he settled in further by hiking his feet up to either side of the tub.

Behind him, Crowley hissed a happy content sound, pressing kisses along Aziraphale's silk-covered shoulders and up to his neck. His hands settled over Aziraphale's fingers linking together in a loving hold, and together, they rubbed the aching strain of Aziraphale's belly where it sloped above the water. Crowley's touch was comforting and familiar, making his skin tingle. It was blissful heaven. So much so that he barely noticed the next contractions, breathing through them nice and easy, that urge to push diminishing down to nothing but a dull ache.

Crowley took to humming again, in no hurry to rush his angel along. He looked down over the round planes of him where they peaked through the water, soft knees, and manicured feet, rounded shoulders, and bulging belly. Bubbles mounded on skin, white and fluffy. "Look at you, darling, so beautiful, so strong. Take your time, that's it, relax for your demon." In response, Aziraphale sighed, stretching languidly, toes reddening as they pressed against hard marble. It was satisfying, seeing him finally comfortable. It had to have been difficult, laboring by himself for so long, this was good, a small break to rest up.

They stayed like that for a time, content in each other's presence. Finally, the need to push grew and grew, breaking Aziraphale's comfortable rest and bringing him back down to earth. The water splashed and moved in waves as he wiggled and twist to try and ease that growing ache. No change in position helped, and gasping, he squeezed Crowley's hand in his own, holding it tight. Inside he felt his restless baby shift and God, that pressure!

"Hnnnn!" Doubling over, the water splashed as he gave in to instinct, baring down on that building ache and gritting his teeth from the effort of it. Pain, mind fogging, horrendous pain, split him in half. "Crowley?!" He choked out through gritted teeth, the cry turning into a lung shaking scream. 

"Easy, easy. I'm here, not goin' nowhere," Crowley crooned, sitting forward to brace the other man's back with the flat of his bony chest. His wings itched to release and canopy Aziraphale in their protective embrace, the urge almost overwhelming as Aziraphale's voice broke against his ears, high and pained. His love pushed and pushed, baring down with the tenacity of a bulldozer, working through each contraction until he was red-faced and gasping for breath.

Crowley's hand felt like it was being squeezed in a vice where it was clenched in Aziraphale's. He bore the pain. It was nothing compared to what his angel was going through. His angel's face squinched up in his efforts, reddening as his brow furrowed in concentration, eyes shut, and head bowed. Finally, he let out one more broken shout, slumping back against Crowley as one foot slipped off the tub wall, hanging weakly in the air. "And breath. Good job, you. Can Crowley have a feel, just to see how things are going?"

Aziraphale didn't react to his request, shivering in his arms and moaning, past the point of words, no doubt. Slipping his hand out of the angels, he reached around his rotund frame and took hold of one plump leg, easing him open so that his other hand could gently seek out and examine what was what. Aziraphale whined at the touch, a blush staining his cheeks despite his exhaustion. Easing fingers along Aziraphale's pulsing turbulent core, Crowley could feel the gentle curve of their baby's skull struggling for freedom. "Ah, you're crowning my dumpling. Almost there." When he took his hands away they are stained gold with diluted blood and tingled with holiness. He urged the water clean, recalling how uncomfortable Aziraphale had been earlier when he'd seen his blood the first time.

Yes, crowning was good. Aziraphale recalled that much at least, his mind focused down to one surmountable goal, getting the baby out of him. He sucked in ragged gasps, and when that need to push hit once more, he went with it willingly. His belly visibly twisted and rolled as the baby moved within him. Switching his hands to grip the edges of the tub, he shrieked, his voice breaking as he strained. Finally, his efforts came to fruition. There was a shifting sensation deep inside. This time he could actually feel the baby descend. Nothing was soothing about that, though, instead the pressure just building to this horrible, seemingly insurmountable thing in his pelvis. His hips felt like they were spreading apart under the pressure. Inside he felt a sudden tearing sensation, the pain of it all in all not good, as something sharp and angular dug into his cervix.

"Oh-ow!" The new sensation startled him out of his contraction, and he let out an indignant squeak of surprise, jumping bodily away from the feeling of his entrance tearing.

"'Oh ow' what, darling?" Crowley tensed behind him, alarmed at his change in tone.

"I-well, I have a feeling those are wings. Very very pointy wings," Aziraphale admitted panting for breath. If he sounded just a wee bit panicked, Crowley didn't call him on it.

"Oh…ow." Crowley peered down between Azira's legs, mouth mewling down in a crinkle of discomfort. No, that did not sound pleasant in the least!

Aziraphale choked back a miserable laugh. "My thought's exactly." He agreed, the smile turning into a wretched sob accompanied by, of all things, tears. More tears? Had he not cried enough today? They spilled down his cheeks in fat drops, making his eyes burn and his breath hitch. "This is exhausting, Anthony." He moaned, turning his face into the swell of Crowley's neck. He was so tired, his thighs and arms shook with exhaustion and overexertion. The thought of actually getting to sleep after all of this set the tears off even further. He had never slept a wink in his centuries of being, but it sounded so wonderful at the moment. Maybe he would pull a Crowley and take an extended century off after all of this.

"It's okay to be tired, love. You've worked so hard. Tell me if you think they are stuck, don't hurt yourself more than necessary." Crowley encouraged even as he stared into the rapidly gold-gilded water, the suds were mostly gone, revealing the growing stain of his Angel's blood. He hadn't accounted for wings _. What an idiot, of course, they'll have wings!_ And now there was more blood. He had never seen so much of Aziraphale's ethereal essence before. "I promise you are almost done. Head, shoulders, wings, and toes, or something like that." He singsonged and turned his head to press a kiss to one damp temple.

Reaching out over pale shoulders, he took ahold of both of Aziraphale's legs at the crook of his knee, so the other man didn't have to hold them up anymore. He'd seen this pose in his instructional books. It was supposed to help take some of the strain off. "Let's rest and breathe like the videos, remember? Just rest until you can't anymore."

Inhale and exhale like the videos. Aziraphale had suffered through watching those silly Lamaze class tropes for years. He had scoffed and scowled, and endured through Crowley's curiosity, even though he thought he could find more relevant information in books. All of it for nothing really, since at the moment he could recall exactly nothing about what they had been teaching

"You will have to remind me..." He whimpered, his brain going fuzzy as a contraction began to build again.

"Right!" Crowley relished the opportunity to put his knowledge to work. "Now breath in through your nose, in-in-in-in." Crowley hurried, catching the signs of an impending contraction. Nostrils flared, and Aziraphale's shoulders lifted as he sucked in a deep breath. Crowley hummed his approval, and his biceps flexed as Aziraphale started to pushed, bracing himself against Crowley's hold. "And out, yell if you need to."

"Ahhh!"

"Fantastic, look at you gorgeousssss, push!" Aziraphale was glorious in all his efforts, pushing and breathing just right under Crowley's direction until he was red in the face and perspiring. He was a sight to behold, powerful and beautiful. The contractions were near on top of each other now, giving him only moments to breathe before the next one crested, turning his belly rigid. Through it all, Crowley offered encouragement, shouting his approval over his husband's broken screams. Until, with one final gasp, his pained cry turned into a sob of relief, and Crowley crowed his approval as their baby spilled free in a blossom of gold.

He was quick to reach out, releasing his hold on round legs in order to catch the tiny body in the water. With a grunt, he lifted them free from the bath, tears burning his eyes and his heart in his throat at the sight of their little creation.

"Look at that, we have ourselves a little lady!" Crowley grinned, plopping her down onto his Angel's chest, soggy wings and all. Aziraphale was tranquil in his arms, and Crowley turned his head, wincing once he realized his poor husband had fainted. "Oh love, come on now, don't miss out on the best part. You worked so hard for it!"

* * *

The soft whimpering wail of a baby drew Aziraphale out of the hazy post-birth exhaustion. Blinking into awareness, the first thing he noticed was the warm, heavy weight of something on his chest. "Nnnngg?" He questioned eloquently, fingers splashing through warm water as he tried to orient himself.

"There you are." Crowley's sultry drawl greeted him against the shell of his ear, warm and filled with so much pride. "I know you are a tired Daddy, but why don't you open your eyes, darling, and see what all your hard work brought us?" Fingers eased sweat-dampened curls off his forehead, and Aziraphale leaned into the comforting touch.

"Tired." So tired, and aching, he felt like someone had kneaded his lower belly like bread dough. His insides felt just as battered, the outsides not much better, throbbing in time with the beat of his heart. Not even the warm water helped ease the ache. Than Crowley's words finally registered. "Daddy?"

"Yup!" Crowley said, lips popping on the 'p.' Aziraphale could practically hear the grin on the demon's lips, could feel it in the swell of Crowley's chest as he breathed in a great big prideful breath. "Open those peepers, come on, before Hell freezes over."

It was a greater effort than he anticipated, forcing his lids open until only a sliver of blue showed, just barely enough to see by. His eyes were greeted by a shock of puffy, pink, fluffy…something. It took him a moment to realize those curls were hair and also happened to be attached to a shockingly small body. "Wah? oh-OH!" Aziraphale let a gasp of surprise as he finally registered the tiny baby on his chest, memories coming back to him in a rush. "Oh my, oh Crowley, what in heavens - pink?!"

Tears spilled from his cheeks unnoticed as he wrapped his arms around their baby, brushing shaking fingers down damp, downy grey wings. Crowley was laughing a deep rumble against his back, warm and content as his long hands supporting Aziraphale's, assisting him to gently turn over the baby. Crowley had already cut their cord, tying it off with a ribbon that matched the pastel of their hair exactly.

"And a girl, at that."

"Yes, look at that." Gently Aziraphale folded her wings so he could see her cherubic face, not half as confident in his movements as Crowley. She was a round, pudgy thing. Her skin uneven and a bit ruddy, thanks to just being born. Small fingers curl and grasp at the air, tiny and perfectly formed. He watched the mew of her mouth turn into a pout, stunningly similar to Crowleys, and her pink brows scrunch up as another soft wail gurgled in her throat.

"She's rather angelic, isn't she, with all those light colors." Crowley looked down at her tiny little body, cradled in the weak hold of Aziraphale's arms. She was damned near perfect.

Aziraphale laughed, the sound watery and a tad bit clogged with emotion. "Oh, dear sweet thing." Sniffling mess that he was, he bent to press a kiss to her forehead, leaving behind a wet spot. He wiped at it with a thumb. She was so beautiful and perfect, if somewhat small, despite the eight hundred years she'd spent gestating. "I think she's a perfect mix of the two of us. Look at that nose!" Turning his head, he offered the same affection to Crowley, only this time pressing lips to lips. Crowley's eyes were crinkled at the corners, the smile on his face wide and sweet and full of open pride. He looked rather pleased with himself, and Aziraphale couldn't find the energy to scold him about it. He was rather pleased as well, and sin or no sin, he thought they had earned this moment.

"You did well, love," Crowley praised, his own thoughts mirroring his husbands. "Though she'll need to work on that nose, it's a little smooshed at the moment."

Aziraphale glowered, pressing a kiss to the discussed protrusion. "Oh, you stop that, she was just born, forgive Papa, he's a bit of a sourwickle." She wailed, and he never thought a newborn could look so offended. "Look what you have done now, Anthony, hurt her feelings, you did!"

"Aww... don't fuss, sweetheart, Papa loves your nose. I'm sure it will grow out beautifully!" Crowley ran one black nail down the length of it, rolling his eyes at their dramatics. "I imagine this might be a tantrum of a different sort though, darling. Someone's hungry." The baby seemed to agree, starting up with a louder, more aggressive cry as she expressed her discontent. With gentle care, he shifted to help Aziraphale adjust her in his arms, supporting her head when the other man struggled. "You've been out for a little. She could use some milk."

Long fingers tug the soaking folds of his robe open, and Aziraphale wrinkled his nose as Crowley guides her to latch on to one flat nipple.

"I'm not even certain that will work," Aziraphale complained, his voice going soft as gums and tongue eagerly worked at the bit of flesh. There was something surprisingly relaxing about the sensation, and he slumped further into the water, getting the tips of her wings wet again before Crowley had a chance to catch him.

The demon snorted, gathering the two up close to him, one hand against her tiny winged back, the other wrapped around Aziraphale's shoulders. "If you can birth a baby, you should have the equipment to feed a baby. And if not, I'll get us some formula. The humans have answers to all sorts of things. You wouldn't be the first." Despite his reassurance, he was left grinning when her eager suckles prove to be true, golden milk leaking from the corners of her mouth as she took it down in greedy gulps. Her blue eyes squint open as she took in her first blurry view of the world, a small fist bapping against Aziraphale's chest. 

Aziraphale watched, her with matching blue eyes that wee smudged underneath with exhaustion, he blinked, and before long, he was looking just as drowsy and blurry as she is. Crowley shook his head, smiling at his sleepy duo.

"Alright, my lovely beasties, let's get you into bed and rested." He thought that wad about all the celebration he would get of them and was more than happy to let them rest.

Wiggling his hips, he eased out of the bath, careful to keep both of them supported since Aziraphale didn't seem up to the task. He drained the water and wished them both dry. For himself, he pulled his maroon robe off the towel hook, hitching it tight before bending to help his husband. The floral blue gown was still clinging to Aziraphale's shoulders, and he was careful to tie it closed around his now soft, swollen middle, wincing at the sight. 

"My poor darling," Gathering the two of them up into his arms, he thought on how the two of them still weighed the same, even now that they were finally separated. His feet pad across the slick tiled floor as he carried his new family to the bedroom, settling them into the center of the bed and surrounding them with pillows. Only when he was satisfied everyone was comfortable, did he settle in against his Angel, laying on his side so he could get in as close as possible. Slinking an arm under an Aziraphale's head and adjusting his own legs, so they prop up the Aziraphale's still trembling thighs at the crook of his knees.

They settled into silence for a bit, only broken by the suckling coos of the baby as she dranks her fill. Crowley watched her, enraptured by each little movement. Until she finally drifted to sleep, mouth going lax, a bubble of angel milk forming on her lips.

"She's been a long time coming." Aziraphale finally spoke. His drowsy voice soft so as not to wake her. "In the light of current events, I suppose I owe an apology to Genghis Khan."

"Oh hardly, that man was a royal prick. I'm glad I tripped up that horse." Crowley murmured against the top of his head, nuzzling him with his chin. His hands ran in soothing strokes over Aziraphale's swollen belly, and Crowley thought the heat probably soothed some of the pain, based on the way Aziraphale relaxed, puddling into the sheets. "What shall we name her?"

Aziraphale blinked, running his fingers through her hair and down her back. Her grey wings were kicked out wide, the feathers slightly rumbled and sticking out at odd angles. He has had some time to think on the topic of names. They both have. "Apfel?" He questioned, glancing up to meet yellow snake slit eyes and tangled red locks. Crowley's smiled slow, cocking his head to the side and chuckling.

"Hmmm…well, isn't that right on the nose." He turned his gaze to her, "Yes, I rather like it. What do you think, Apfel?" He questioned. Her only answer was a watery burp, and he nodded his head in agreement. "Eloquently said. _A-p-fel_." He rolls the German word on his tongue. "It has a bit of both you and me in it too, Mister Fell." He admitted with a glimmering twinkle in his eye.

"I quiet thought the same thing, darling Anthony. You and me, and a Garden with an Apple in a Tree." They chuckle at the inside joke, both drawn back to that first moment together, so long ago. A chance meeting in a walled garden brought upon by a wayward woman who had dared to question and a serpent who had eagerly answered.

"I love you, you wily old serpent."

"And I, you, Angel."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apfel - German for Apple
> 
> Comments and kudos appreciated muchly!
> 
> I've made a tumblr, catch up with my art and other stories! https://www.tumblr.com/blog/oopsynini
> 
> Read on! Episode 2 is up!


	2. Art for Apples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Artwork for Apple Slices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did something other than writing today! I've painted my husbands getting ready for baby Apfel. Aziraphale is feeling very fussy and Crowley is completely unrepentant!
> 
> Read on. This is just a bit of an addition. There are more parts to the series!


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